Sanctuary and a Brand New Year

This might sound funny, but to me, gratitude is a bit like a landslide: I rarely feel it at the outset of reflection, but once I pause to express it, gratitude gathers momentum and suddenly I find myself tumbling down the hill toward happiness. 

And sweet relief always follows. 

It’s interesting to me that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year unfold one after another. Each holiday invites us, in its own way, toward gratitude, togetherness, and renewal. It’s as though the season gently guides us inward before asking us to step forward again. 

Isn’t that a beautiful thought? 

I’ve written before about the idea of wintering: how nature offers us a blueprint for rest and unwinding. Trees release their leaves to preserve energy. Animals retreat, burrow, and wait. The natural world slows, reminding us that rest is not an indulgence, but a necessity.

And yet, winter is not a season of inactivity. 

Even as trees stand bare, they are doing their most important work beneath the surface, strengthening their roots in ways they cannot while supporting a canopy of leaves. It’s a reminder that the quietest seasons often hold the deepest growth. In much the same way, the holiday season invites us to pause, tend to what grounds us, and acknowledge the people and places that have sustained us. 

At its core, the message is simple: gratitude.

Don’t get me wrong – this time of year is not without its demands. Hosting family, planning gatherings, choosing thoughtful gifts, and stewarding a business through the year’s end can feel like a delicate balance. And yet, somewhere along the way, something shifts. The noise softens. A shared meal with family or a familiar laugh remind me why we do all of this in the first place. 

In those moments, gratitude (and that sweet relief) always settles in for me.

2025 has held both good and bad moments. Well, this one in particular held some nearly insane moments I can only call CRAZY TRAIN. And I don’t think I’m alone in this experience. 

But the turning of the year offers us a rare gift: the chance to begin again. To meet life with fresh eyes. To choose strength and calm, rooted in a steady focus on thankfulness.

As I step into the new year, I’m making room for creating sanctuary—not just in the spaces I design, but in the way I live, gather, and care for the people (and plants, puppies, birds – shall I go on?) around me. 

So here’s to another year of gratitude and goodness.

Here’s to another year of sanctuary.

Big love,

Lisa